Unexpected Happenings
by IvanLovver11
Summary: This story starts right before Ralph gets onto the beach whilst he is running from the savage boys at the end of the book. The Naval Officer does not save him. He is not even there. This is what i think should have happened, and then a little twist, just 'cause i can. I know that i'm horrible at summaries, just read it. Rated T for Gore, Cannibalism, and all those good stuffs.Enjoy


…He stumbled over a root and the cry that pursued him rose even higher. He saw a shelter burst into flames and the fire flapped at his right shoulder and there was the glitter of water. Then he was down, rolling over and over in the warm sand, crouching with arm to ward off, trying to cry for mercy.

He stood up, looking around the open shore frantically, trying to think. The cry of the hunters, ever so high and piercing, was keeping him from doing so. He had nowhere to hide, unless he was to try to run through the long line of hunters to get back into the forest. He could only run down the shore for so long before they would catch up to him. He heard the cry getting terrifyingly close. He ran forward, straight into the ocean, willing to take on the sharks rather than the hunters pursuing him.

Jack, painted like the rest of his tribe of vile savages, emerged from the coverts, screaming out that awful cry of his. His tribe followed not far behind, and echoing Jack like mockingbirds. Ralph, pathetic little Ralph, cut, scratched, and still bleeding, was trying to escape into the ocean. It was all too simple to have Roger run headlong into the water, ropes trailing behind him. Ralph struggled oh so feebly, but Roger managed to beat him into a stupor and bind him.

Ralph was barely conscious, hanging on to every drop of reality that he could, trying to keep the blackness that was unconsciousness at bay. He heard Jack and the others deciding what to do with him now. Samneric suggested they leave his head in the water and let him slowly drown. Roger thought they should take rocks and beat him to death. Jack, however, had a different plan in mind. He instructed the boys to carry Ralph back to Castle Rock, and to be very gentle with him.

None of the boys understood why, but they heeded their orders from the chief and gingerly lifted the half-conscious boy up. Ralph moaned in agony, his wounds almost too painful to bear. They carried him up to castle rock, all the while aware of every movement, and how it would affect the boy in their arms. They finally got to the rock, palatial in their minds- home, in a sense. They laid him down, ever so gently, where Jack pointed.

They crowded in a large circle around him, wanting to know why they had brought this rubbish into their territory. After all, hadn't they just chased him away so that he wouldn't get in? Was the whole hunt a moot point, then? All these questions and more reeled 'round in the boys minds, but none daring enough to question the chief. Jack walked around Ralph, circling like a shark, waiting, looking for the right place, the right time, to strike, to maul, to _kill._

He started to walk faster, kicking up little pebbles here and there. He poked and prodded Ralph with his foot every now and then, teasing him, taunting him, telling Ralph that he won, _he_ won, _he won_, all without saying a word. He was saying that Ralph lost, he _lost_ and he was going to_ prove_ it to him that he, Jack, _deserved_ to win, to triumph over this scum who had taken his place from the start. Ralph, this fair haired, ignorant, naïve little boy, was going to get his, and who else to give it to him other than the one he had stolen from? He started to kick his face, arms, and legs, anywhere he could reach on his miserable, pathetic little body, streaming a line of foul words the whole time.

He called the others forward, told them to start to beat him with the blunt end of their spears, but not to hit him too hard, that he had special plans for him, that this was just the prelude to the feast. They gladly obliged, and soon Ralph didn't even flinch anymore. That was when Jack held up a hand, compelling them to stop.

He picked Ralph up himself this time, not caring what dragged on the ground or what was hit by the rocks. He pulled him over to a big, open space, and left him there for a minute while he went looking for something. He came back with his knife in his hand and a malicious, sadistic, horrifyingly demented smile on his face. He knelt down slowly, getting down onto both of his knees, almost leaning completely over Ralph, when he brought the knife down with slow, deliberate movements, resting it just above his abdomen.

The boys around him went dead silent, as if they knew that this was a sacred thing, and that it should not be interrupted. The crude, rusty blade of the knife was sitting there, just above Ralph's filthy skin. The slightest pressure and a small stream of liquid rubies came trickling down the mountains that were his skin. Jack relished at the beautiful sight of it, the look of discomfort on Ralph's face. Slightly more pressure and the small stream turned into a gushing red river, then to an ocean, large and pooling 'round the blade.

Ralph cried out in pain, and Jack laughed an evil, sadistic laugh, loving the sounds of pain, and putting still more pressure on the wound, already quite large, turning it into a canyon flooding with the ocean of blood. In a sudden surge of raw, ferocious rage, Jack raised the knife and brought it down quickly, cutting through most of Ralphs flesh. He pulled up and over, exposing Ralph's innards.

Ralph was screaming in agony, never having experienced so much excruciating pain in all his life, even in his worst nightmares he had never felt something so unbearable. Jack brought the knife down on him again, this time hitting his ribs. He heard a delicious crack, the wonderful sound making him laugh even more. Ralph had since blacked out, welcoming the darkness into his mind and body as if it was an old friend, anything to get away from what he was being forced to endure.

Jack was furious, of course, that Ralph was no longer conscious to experience all this special treatment Jack was giving him. So furious in fact, that he brought the knife up one final time, and struck down on Ralph's chest, ripping and tearing at the flesh, trying to get at his heart. Finally he reached it, still pumping feebly, and pulled. He raised it up in his hand, high over his head. The other boys were astonished at first, but soon recovered from the shock, and started to cheer, to chant. Jack lowered the heart to his face, staring, and a look of pure ecstasy on his face, and brought the heart to his lips. The _taste_, so delicious, he took a whole section into his mouth and bit down. Immediately blood began to flow into his mouth. It was amazing.

He ordered the boys to pick up Ralph and bring him down to the beach, down to the place where they had tried to stomp out Jacks power. They did as they were told, dragging the lifeless carcass onto the beach. Jack, still carrying the knife, cut into Ralph's body, cutting off hunks of flesh, handing them to the boys, setting an example by taking another bite of the heart, chewing, and swallowing.

The other boys followed suit, eating the flesh and drinking the blood. Almost all of Ralph's body was gone, all having been ingested by Jack and his savages. The boys were all beginning to feel slightly depressed. They had extremely bad stomach aches, too. Almost all at once, they fell to the ground, dead. Jack was the only one who was still alive. A sudden streak of light flashed across the sky, just over his head. He saw it crash on the island a couple hundred yards away.

Jack died in pain, his abdomen on fire, and his head reeling. The ocean claimed them all for itself, pulling them out to sea, never to be seen again, but before he did die, he saw two girls walking down the island, looking miffed, but unharmed. One girl was very fair and quite tall. The other was shorter, and plump. They looked to be about 16.

The taller girl was named Accalia, and she was very beautiful. She was 16 and about 5'11", had light brown hair, and beautiful green eyes. The other girl, Portia, was 15 years old, about 5'3", and very plump. Her hair was a light blonde, and her eyes a deep brown. She had round glasses on her face, and they were constantly falling down the bridge of her nose.

She was chattering on and on about her life at home, and Accalia was sort of ignoring her. She was talking about her home life or something. Apparently, her Grandfather owned a bakery, and he never let her go anywhere like this because of her asthma. Accalia was looking for the other girls that were on the plane with them.

After a while, all the girls were there, ranging in age from 12 to 16, but no adults were there. The younger girls were having fun, playing in the shallow waters, sunbathing, while the older girls were looking around the island, taking it all in. They found a section of the island all burned up, and another part had this disgusting, foul smelling, pig's head on the ground. There were small huts there too.

People _must_ have been here! Some of the older girls came back from the burnt part of the island with a little boy with a birthmark on his face. Said that they found him sitting in the middle of some hole he had dug in the ground. He looked filthy, starved, and quite terrified. Apparently, a plane full of boys had crashed here too.

They had been younger, they had become savages. They had KILLED the other boys, had burned down part of the island. They had stolen the innocence of this island and then tainted her even further. The boy with the birthmark said there had been a dozen boys here, at least. Now… now they were all gone. Dead. Never to be heard from again… all those boys with mothers and fathers and siblings. Murder was in their hearts when they died. But this little boy survived. And so would they.

They took Portia's glasses and built a fire while the little boy told them more about what happened. They often had to stop and comfort him, because he would burst into terrified tears, jabbering something about how 'the beast had consumed them all'. He finally finished when a ship appeared on the coastline, and all the girls and the little boy started to scream and frantically wave their arms about, trying to get the ships attention. They threw more fuel into the fire, and the ship slowly turned toward them.

The ship arrived and docked awkwardly on the shore, and the girls swarmed to the side, while Accalia and Portia stayed with the little boy. The captain came out, looking astonished. He asked if there were any grownups there, but there were none. He invited them all onto the island, and once again the boy with the birthmark had to explain what had happened before the girls had gotten there.

The captain seemed both in awe and disgusted. Who would have ever thought 12 year old little boys capable of murder? It was astounding. He offered them all medical attention, food, shelter, and showers. They all readily agreed. After they were done being treated and done bathing, they went down to dinner. Only, the room the captain said was the dining room looked more like the butchers work space. They all, of course, walked inside and looked around, seeing if there was anyone in there that could direct them to the dining room.

But instead, the door closed and locked, and they found themselves locked in the room with the captain. He took them all into a room, one at a time, for about 15 minutes each, where all that could be heard were screams and sounds of a hand coming into contact with other skin. Inside, the officer was beating the children, hooking them up to a special IV, slapping them if they didn't cooperate.

The screams of the children echoed off the walls of the room for hours. The captain drained all the children of blood except for the boy with the birthmark. He saved him for something special. He took him up to his special room, and gave him some Tylenol and told him to get some rest.

As soon as the boy was asleep, he took a lead pipe and began to hit him with it. To pull the boys hair, scratching, clawing, biting, anything he could think of that would inflict physical pain. He resented him for telling these girls what had happened to him, hating the fact that they had so much worry on their minds before they died.

"Sie wertlos, für nichts gut, verwöhnt, Rotz nosed kleine Göre! Sie ging hin und alles verdorben!"*

*You worthless, good for nothing, spoiled, snot nosed little brat! You went and spoiled everything!*

He took all of their dead bodies and threw them into the ocean, and took their blood to his freezer, to serve in his crew's coffee in the mornings.

He went and did his rounds, checking to make sure that everything was all in order, taking special care to make sure that the turret on the ship was aimed at the sky, because another plane was scheduled to fly over this area in a few hours.


End file.
